


if you really love me punish me

by keyt_scrat



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Italy, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 02:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15086693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyt_scrat/pseuds/keyt_scrat
Summary: no plot no dialogues we die like men(ermal being scared of pursuing a relationship idk)





	if you really love me punish me

Fabrizio started to get closer and Ermal noticed it.

Fabrizio started to get closer and Ermal was scared.

He would say that he first noticed it somewhere between San Remo and Eurovision - in the miles between them that somehow didn’t matter at all, when Fabri’s hot breath on the phone burned his ears.

But Ermal never quite enjoyed lying to himself (even though it was a vice he frequented in). 

So if he was honest with himself he would say that maybe it started in their pre-Sanremo days, in those countless interviews and nerves and endless teasing.

Or maybe even earlier - on the floor of Anita’s bedroom, drunk with music and a little bit of wine and feeling like they could change the world with one song. 

Or maybe earlier - after Sanremo ’17, when his manager said that Fabrizio would like to speak to him, that he has an idea for a song, that they’re thinking of making it a trio and Ermal was desperately wishing that they could make it a duo.

If he ever was completely honest with himself he would say that it started a long time ago - when he was listening to Fabri’s music, finding strength in it, wishing one day to have the career this guy has. Can you imagine being a fan of someone and then they tell you, with unbelievable amount of pride and determination in their eyes that you are going to be the first person to listen to their new music? He can. And he’s scared.

Fabrizio is always getting closer and Ermal would like to think it’s just the type of person he is - touchy-feely, constantly hugging and kissing and running his fingers through other people’s hair. But the worst of all - it is not just physical. 

Ermal got used to physical contact - in Italy you kind of have to. And even though Fabrizio’s touches were burning through his skin he was so casual about it it seemed okay. Every hair stroke, every time he was holding his hand and stroking his thumb over Ermal’s palm, every time he was kissing his cheek or nuzzling his neck or sniffing his hair he was so nonchalant about it, Ermal learned not to give a fuck either. They built a world around them - a world where it was okay, where it would be weird had they not been doing it and the rest of the world bought it. 

Ermal noticed it in Lisbon. Lisbon, chaotic but at the same time rehearsed and eager to impress. Lisbon, where the heat burned so much you could feel it on your tongue as well as water droplets from the ocean. Lisbon where they were more or less left alone, overly protected in their rooms that quickly became a room, with copious amounts of red wine, hotel breakfast food and not enough cigarettes. 

“I honestly didn’t know people cared so much about Eurovision” - said Fabrizio, sweating in his ever-present leather jacket.

“So many people here. Everyone is so interesting” - said Fabrizio, rolling up his sleeves and stroking the tattoos.

“Is it bad that I still only want to talk to you?” - said Fabrizio, watching him over his sunglasses.

And Ermal was scared.  
He plays it off, he laughs, he turns up the brother thing, he’s riding that platonic wave as far as it’s going to take him, he pretends he doesn’t see Fabri’s disappointed looks, doesn’t hear his pointed sighs. Fabrizio is earnest and painfully honest and he doesn’t seem to be the type of man who lies to himself and Ermal is jealous. 

Ermal noticed in Lisbon where they’re both tired and bored out of their minds and overworked. Lisbon is where he spent some of the best days in his life - surrounded by so many artists and part-time translating for Fabri and getting use of that Languages degree for once. In Lisbon, where he spent some of the worst days in his life - constantly confused and wishing for a drink and a cigarette, working towards the goal that seems less and less achievable every day and not getting what they wanted in the end. In Lisbon, where they kissed for the first time. 

Eurovision week feels like a train that’s only gaining speed towards its stop. Maybe it’s the hectic energy that surrounds them, maybe it’s because they both would choose a two hour conversation on a hotel balcony to two hours of sleep but soon enough everything blends together, lines start to blur, nothing makes sense but at the same time everything is crystal clear and Ermal feels like he’s never understood their song more, that he could taste time on his tongue, burned by horrendous hotel coffee. The only thing that makes sense to them is each other, they’re always together and Ermal feels like if even one part of his body is not touching Fabrizio, he’s going to actually have a mental breakdown. They are constantly cuddling and holding hands and whispering in each other’s hair and Ermal is scared out of his mind.

It happens after the finale, when they both have glitter and confetti in their hair and they both act as if none of it matters. They run away from the security and management, they find a quiet local pub, the only one it seems that doesn’t care about Eurovision in this goddamn country and get spectacularly drunk on sangria. It happens after the finale, when Ermal feels like he can finally breathe again and Fabrizio smiles oh so bright and he keeps getting closer. It happens after the finale when they are walking home uselessly holding each other up, their hands intertwined and Ermal doesn’t know where his arms end and where Fabrizio’s tattoos begin. Fabrizio jokes about something so Ermal naturally has to laugh somewhere in his hair, then in his neck, then in the corner of his lips and the next thing he knows he’s pinned against a wall in some god-forgotten Portuguese alley and Fabrizio’s hands are stroking his stomach and Fabrizio’s lips are firmly on his and Fabrizio’s knee is between his legs. 

In the morning they both pretend that nothing happened. Well, Ermal pretends, masterfully so, with wide innocent eyes, with ‘oh man I was so drunk last night I don’t even remember who won’ and Fabrizio is disappointed again, he keeps running his hand under a scarf thrown around his neck and he doesn’t share his expensive cigarettes with Ermal anymore. 

Fabrizio is an open book, he knows what he wants and Ermal used to think he’s the same but this man is an error in his calculations. The thing is - it would have been so easy, they’re on a rollercoaster that only goes up and he can’t imagine his life without this man anymore. He imagines what it would be like to lose it - imagines them performing in two - three years only they don’t talk anymore and it’s awkward and heartbreaking and everyone knows that and everyone knows whose fault it is. He can’t let this happen so he tries to distance himself, tries to keep his head cool but Fabrizio is making it way too hard for him.  
The thing is, Ermal knows it would have been easy - Fabrizio made it clear enough. The thing is - it’s not that easy because Fabrizio already has a family and god knows family is a sacred thing. So no matter how many times he says that he doesn’t even live with Giada anymore, explains that his kids are the most important thing in his life and oh wouldn’t it be nice to share that with someone (wink wink nudge nudge), Ermal politely smiles and says something like ‘you should dedicate a song to Anita, she’s still bitter about us recording in her bedroom’ or ‘take Libero to the football charity thing. If Giada doesn’t have him that weekend of course’. The thing is - Fabrizio already has everything he’s ever wanted and Ermal doesn’t know if counts.

However, Fabrizio does take Libero to the ‘football charity thing’. He drives to Genoa only to drape himself over sweaty Ermal, make fun of him in front of the cameras and whisper that they’re going to wait for him after the game. Ermal thinks that he should probably stay till the end of the game but his legs hurt, his lungs are dying, he’s sweaty and miserable and the only things that can make feel better are a shower, cold beer and Bizio’s smile.

He has a tiny mental breakdown in the shower and at one point considers calling Silvia, considers crawling back to her, to the comfort of nine shared years. But this door is firmly shut, leaving only a great but cold friendship and enough break up songs to sustain his career for years. He hasn’t been coming up with break up songs lately though. His songs are hopeful and sentimental and he sounds like he’s in love even though he’s sure he isn’t.

It’s a bit later and they’re in a secluded ice cream parlor and Libero is talking about the football match and Fabrizio slides his foot up Ermal’s ankle and his smile reflects on his sunglasses and Ermal can’t take it anymore and storms off. Fabrizio finds him in a men's bathroom, running his hands through the water, staring at one spot on the mirror.  
Fabrizio is always headstrong, he doesn’t do half truths or lies by omission. Maybe that the Aries in him. So he comes up behind him, puts his head on Ermal’s shoulder, their eyes meet in their reflections.  
“You can have this” - he says and his voice is soft but confident

“You can have all of this. You already have me” - he says, putting one hand on the small of Ermal’s back and the other on his shoulder.

“You don’t need to be scared. I’m also scared but it’s okay” - their eyes are reflecting odf each other in a stained mirror.

In Genoa they kiss for the second time. Ermal’s legs are still shaking; Fabrizio’s hands caress his hair - the springy bits by the neck, still wet from the shower, Bizio laughs into his mouth and he seems so happy and is that what Ermal was so scared of? Now it all seems ridiculous and he wants to laugh at himself from a month ago for denying himself such happiness. And he also hopes he will never have to write break up songs anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. bold of you to assume i could ever write plot  
> 2\. send me hatemail on twitter -@heterorussia or tumblr @sapphicrussia as you can tell i'm russian  
> 3\. my ultimate goal in life is for ermal to block me so i feel like we're getting close kids


End file.
